


Control

by DeCarabas



Series: Fugitives Together [26]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Blood Magic, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-07 22:33:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4280424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeCarabas/pseuds/DeCarabas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during Legacy. On the moment when Justice took control, and his notable absence from the battle that followed; a straightforward retelling of the scene as I saw it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Control

“Bloody voices in here. I’m sure of it,” Carver muttered as they picked their way over the rough stone floor at the base of the tower.

“Maker, don’t you start too.”

Carver shot Hawke a sour look. “I’m fine. Don’t lump me in with your pet abomination. It’s just—”

“ _Don’t_.” There’d been a moment when Hawke and Carver had almost been getting along—following the traces of their father’s blood magic, killing things together just like old times; as family bonding moments went, what more could he ask for?—but the temporary peace seemed destined not to last. “He’s not an abomination.”

“I don’t think he can even hear us anymore, what does he care what I call him?” Carver jerked his head over his shoulder, to where Anders and Varric were trailing behind them—theoretically keeping an eye out for any darkspawn or deepstalkers or blood-crazed cultists that might be following them, but now Varric seemed to be keeping an eye on Anders more than anything else, and Anders seemed to need all his focus just to put one foot in front of the other. Shit.

Carver said something else about the voices, something about Corypheus, but Hawke was only half listening to his brother. Anders had been looking a little shaky since they entered the Deep Roads—not that any of them were exactly thrilled to be back in these old tunnels, reliving that damned expedition—but he’d been keeping up a steady stream of conversation until just a while ago. When had that stopped?

As he watched, Anders suddenly doubled over mid-step, crying out and clutching his hands to his head.

Cursing himself for not paying closer attention—he’d _seen_ how this place was affecting Anders—Hawke went to his side. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t—the voices—” Hawke reached for him, but Anders jerked away. Screwing his eyes closed as if to shut out the Deep Roads around them, he forced the words out. “Wardens—the Joining—I have too much taint in my blood. I can’t shut him out.”

For just a moment, he opened his eyes and looked up at Hawke. “Help me, love.” Hawke felt a stab of fear at the sound of Anders’ voice as he made that request—and then Anders was pushing himself away from Hawke, and when he spoke again, his voice had acquired an echo. “I will _not_ —be—controlled!”

And Justice rose, braced for battle.

But there wasn’t anything for him to fight here. Whatever these voices were that Carver and Anders were hearing—whatever Corypheus was doing to the Wardens—Hawke didn’t think Justice’s straightforward method of smiting their enemies was going to help here. “Let it go,” he said, trying to sound soothing, trying to hide his own concern—letting Justice see how afraid he was for him wouldn't help matters, he'd just get more defensive. “There’s a better way to fight him.”

Maybe in response to Hawke, or maybe in response to whatever was happening inside his own head, Justice slammed his staff into the ground. Hawke raised his hands in a pacifying gesture—but then, as if they didn’t have enough to deal with already, a pair of shades materialized behind Justice, drawn in by the strength of the roiling emotions. Well, on the bright side, a chance to smite some demons should help Justice focus on something beside the voice in his head. Next best thing to templars, really.

Hawke grabbed his staff to encase one of the demons in ice, expecting Justice to turn and take the other one—but to his surprise, Justice’s glow was already fading away. The blue light left his eyes, revealing Anders' amber staring at Hawke blankly. And as Carver rushed past them to shatter the shade that Hawke had frozen, Anders stood motionless, ignoring the second shade right behind him.

Hawke started to call out a warning, but then Anders seemed to focus, raised his staff—

And impaled himself on it.

Hawke couldn’t make sense of what he was seeing, his mind refused to process it—but then Carver was staggering back under the strength of the spell cast by Anders’ shed blood, and Anders was dragging his staff back out of his own gut. He raised the staff again, leveling it at Carver.

“Hawke!” Varric shouted, and Hawke snapped out of it and slammed a gravitic ring over the lot of them, slowing their movements to a crawl, buying himself a moment’s delay.

Anders was glowing again, but it wasn’t the familiar blue cracks of Justice spiderwebbing over his skin. He was wrapped in a red ball of light that flickered around his wound, licking up to cast a sickly haze over his throat.

Hawke hadn’t thought Anders even knew blood magic.

The longer he stared, the more he was certain Anders _didn’t_ know blood magic.

A bolt from Bianca tore through the last shade—had they been _summoned?_ —and then Varric was aiming Bianca in Anders’ direction.

“Don’t shoot! Nobody move!” Hawke ordered. “Carver, get back!”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Carver growled through the distortion of the gravitic ring.

“ _Get back._ Nobody—nobody do anything.”

“Whatever you say, Hawke,” Varric said.

With the other two at a safe distance and Anders nearly immobilized in the center of the spell, Hawke stepped forward into the whirling glare of the ring, ignoring Carver’s protests.

“Anders?” he tried. Anders’ amber eyes slowly moved to focus on him through the distortion, but his face was a blank mask. There was no sign of recognition.

“Justice?” he tried again, doubtfully.

Nothing.  Not Justice.

And then he found himself flying backwards, crashing into the stone wall behind him, and he belatedly realized the safety of the gravitic ring had faded away. Time had begun to move again. He heard Carver cursing in the distance—but Anders was silent as he raised his staff, lit by that red glow.

Hawke pulled himself back to his feet. _I’ll apologize for this later, love._

* * *

Hawke felt sick.

Anders lay on the ground, still wrapped in that red glow—but it was fading, and underneath it, cracks were beginning to open in his skin, letting blue light shine through. Justice burst to the surface for just a moment, chasing away the last of the blood magic's light. Chasing away whatever voices had been pulling at his mind too, Hawke hoped. Slowly, he rolled onto his side, forcing himself upright.

“Justice?” Hawke crouched down beside him, and when Justice looked up at him, there was recognition in those blue eyes. _Thank the Maker._ He reached for a wisp of healing magic, wishing he was better at this, and sent it sinking into Justice’s skin.

Wounds knit. Justice’s light faded.

“Thank you, love,” Anders spoke haltingly as the last flicker of blue left his eyes, and clutching his side—where his staff had passed through his body; Hawke was never going to stop seeing that nightmare image—he slowly got to his feet. “I—I guess they’re right. You never can leave the Wardens. I hope I can hold against him. …Against them both.”

Both? “From where I was standing, it looked like Justice was trying to help.”

Anders gave him a half-smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “ _Trying_ being the operative word… but thank you. Are you all right?”

“Are _you_?”

Anders shook his head, looking up at the tower where Corypheus was imprisoned. “Ask me once we get out of the Deep Roads.”

Hawke had to agree with that sentiment. Maker, he hated the Deep Roads.


End file.
